


Valor

by ashaleighmarie



Series: Thy Kingdom Come [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, I know we're only two chapters in, M/M, Sort of an alternate ending to the main story line, but here it is anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashaleighmarie/pseuds/ashaleighmarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They will not take you from me.” He whispered it fiercely, as if that might somehow make it so. Ryan chuckled quietly and stole the fire from his breath with a quiet kiss.</p>
<p>“If anyone could keep that promise, I imagine it would be you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valor

**Author's Note:**

> So this scene has been haunting me and I had to write it down. I hope you all enjoy. It's the same universe as Spare Me Over, just sort of an alternate ending. I wasn't sure what to do with it, so... yeah. I decided to post it as a standalone sort of thing.

When the fighting began, he had known it was going to be brutal. As many soldiers were falling as were deserting. They were outnumbered, horribly so, and death was enough to scare men into forgetting their training, losing their heads, running loose as though it might grant them a reprieve from the danger that they knew faced them head on. Anything to escape what they knew for something that was even potentially less unpleasant.

He picked up the slack himself. He didn’t have time to look and wait and see, to take note of who was left and what they were doing. For all he knew, he was the last one foolish enough to fight. But he did so, because it was all he knew.

He hacked off limbs and heads and drove his gleaming blade through those that dared to face him, scattering the floor with blood and bodies. His cloak was lost in all the chaos, torn off in a scramble of limbs and screams. There was fire somewhere; he could hear it crackling, heat and smoke billowing high into the air around them.

He heard a familiar squawk, and an arrow lodged in the throat of a man two strides away from him. Gavin was still alive. Further, a body had been hacked cleanly in two. Jack’s work. It was reassuring.

If he had been wounded, he didn’t know. He felt nothing past the adrenaline that kept his body moving, kept his sword swinging. Dozens of men falling to his sword, and still he fought. He would fight them all, if need be. He would slaughter their entire army all on his own. Anything to protect his King.

When he felt the sudden pulling at his arm, dragging him back a step, he whipped around with sword still raised and halted when he realized it was Ryan that held his arm. “Fall back, you fool,” he hissed, giving another yank.

Michael faltered, looking momentarily bewildered, but as Ryan pulled again, he fell along behind his King. The urge to fight still burned hot within his belly, to strike down every sword raised against his own. He could hear Ryan’s voice raised to call to the last of his troops, in an echo, as if it were coming from far away. Commanding a retreat.

The soldiers fled eagerly with the order, making for the hall where they knew there would be a chance of escape. But Ryan did not follow them, and Michael refused to either. Even when Ryan tried to urge him that way, he refused, sticking close to the King’s side. If he wasn’t going to fight, he was going to stay with Ryan.

Finally, exasperated, he gave in and they moved off together in the opposite direction, heading for the throne room.

The pounding of feet on stone floor behind them had Michael whipping around. But it was only Ray, arm clutched to his chest. Jack was behind him, and then Gavin and Geoff bringing up the rear.

It seemed they too had stayed. Ryan muttered, a filthy curse that would have made Michael grin if not for the gravity of the situation. But he didn’t stop to argue with them. The lull was only temporary. The enemy would be returning soon, in even greater numbers than before.

They barred the great doors at their backs once they were inside. The room was empty, long-abandoned by anyone who had previously thought to hole up there. Weapons were scattered around, dropped by cowards who had been intended to carry them into battle and then fled before their chance came.

They were alone, at the end of things. The six of them. As the rest of the world crumbled and burned, and they heard the rumble of the approaching armies, and knew that death sat just outside the door, the six of them were all that remained.

They were hardly in the fittest fighting shape. Gavin was limping, though he refused to let Ray fuss over it. He swore it was just a twinge. Nobody really had the strength to argue about the blood soaking through his boot. Geoff had removed his dented helmet, hair sticky around the site of the wound. Ray had torn up his cape to craft a makeshift sling for his arm, kicking aside the splintered ends of the arrow he had pulled from it, and Jack was picking over the scattered weapons left behind by the rest, trying to find a decent replacement for his destroyed axe.

If Michael was injured, he couldn’t feel it. He felt nothing but the lingering burn of fury, at being pinned down like rats, holed up waiting for their fate. Had it not been Ryan who had grabbed his arm and hauled him back, he would still be out there, fighting them to his very last breath. But even now, he had to obey his King. He knew no other way anymore.

Ryan’s hair was soaked with sweat, clinging to his forehead. It seemed odd somehow to see him without his crown, outside the bedroom, but it had been cast away just to the side of where he was slumped, leaning against the base of the stairs leading up to the throne.

“You didn’t have to stay with me, you know.”

All of them except for Michael glanced in his direction.

“Of course we did, you sausage. You pulled Mogar in here with you, you didn’t think the rest of us would bugger off and leave the two of you to it, did you?” demanded Gavin, brows furrowing.

“I only grabbed him because I knew he wouldn’t go on his own. He wasn’t going to run anywhere, with me or away from me. I had to order him to move.” Ryan’s gaze shifted to settle on his Second, watching his profile, knowing the younger man was aware of his attention. A wry smile touched his lips. “He’s never had the self-preservation to do anything but stand and fight.”

“Better to die with my sword.” Michael didn’t move, didn’t look around. His fingers still hadn’t loosened from the hilt of his bloodied diamond sword.

“I’ve hardly stolen the chance from you. Just delayed it a while longer.” Messy fingers raked through his hair, streaking blood through the damp locks of his hair. “But the rest of you could have run. You didn’t have to choose the same end as us.”

Jack scoffed and sent another sword skittering away from him, adding it to the pile of weapons he had discarded as ‘unworthy’. “We’re the King’s Guard. We each took the oath. Only honorable way to die is to make sure we die defending you.”

“Then you’re all idiots.” But his smile widened a little bit all the same.

“Like it or not, your Grace, you’re stuck with us to the very end.” Ray laughed tiredly, his back resting against Geoff’s, so they leaned against one another. “You gathered us all together. Only seems fitting that we all go out together too.”

“M’glad I went down to the blacksmith’s one last time the other day to see her,” Geoff murmured, a smile on his face, eyes closed.

“I visited my roses just two nights ago. For once, I didn’t care who saw me.” Ray sighed, and his own eyes closed as well, remembering.

Jack didn’t say anything, but nobody really expected him to. They all knew who he would be thinking of, and where she was. Too far away for a final visit, but for the best, to also be far away from all of this.

“Stopped in at the kitchen early this morning. Meg was making bread. I told her it smelled top, and she gave me some.” Gavin smiled goofily, thinking back to it. “Lindsay was there too, the girl that’s always been sweet on our Mogar.”

“Idiot,” Michael muttered, but there was a fondness to the word that made his head dip forward slightly, as if it might better hide it.

“Did you go to see her?” asked Gavin, pressing a palm against Jack’s shoulder in passing for support as he hobbled by.

“Of course not. I was busy.” Now, finally, Michael looked up, and Ryan’s gaze was still there, following him ceaselessly.

“Too busy for breakfast and one last visit with a pretty girl?” Gavin tutted disapprovingly, looking askance at the warrior.

“Yeah. Something like that.” Gavin looked insulted at the very thought, and Michael rolled his eyes with a grumble, pushing himself to his feet. His legs felt weak, and he was reminded of when he was young, when carrying a sword had been a challenge all on its own.

The tip of his weapon dragged across the floor as he walked, slowly, across the room, halting just in front of Ryan, staring down at the same sharp blue eyes he’d grown so used to seeing over him, eyes he’d come to love, as much as every other part of the man.

He slid down onto his knees, sword slipping from his grip. His hands found Ryan’s, and they both leaned forwards until their foreheads could press together, in the eyes of those they respected most, laying themselves bare in this, their final moments together.

“They will not take you from me.” He whispered it fiercely, as if that might somehow make it so. Ryan chuckled quietly and stole the fire from his breath with a quiet kiss.

“If anyone could keep that promise, I imagine it would be you.”

A fine shudder ran through him, and Michael bowed his head. He would sacrifice anything in his power to give if that were truly so, if he could possess the strength to battle back whole armies so that those he cared most for would be saved.

His own life would gladly be forfeit, to know they would live on.

The touch of a hand at his shoulder made him jerk with surprise, and he looked upward to see Jack standing over them, expression twisted softly into understanding. There was an axe cocked over his shoulder, smaller than the one he had carried before, but decent enough to serve as a replacement, for what it would be worth.

Behind him, Ray appeared, and he too laid a hand on Michael’s back.

Gavin and Geoff stood there as well, supporting one another. Gavin had a bow in his free hand, and Geoff’s bloodied grip was locked tight around one of his swords.

“If they think they’ll take our kingdom, they’d better be ready to pay for it in blood,” said Geoff.

They were both offered a hand up, and together the six of them stood, in a circle that ached of pain and exhaustion, yet stood strong together, one last time.

“We’ll take as many of them with us as we can.”

“Gods go with them. They’ll need the help more than us.”

“They’re going to look like such idiots when their armies return and have to recount the tales of our valor instead of their own.”

The noises coming from outside were growing louder, as the armies broke their way deeper into the castle. Their final battle would soon be upon them.

And they were ready for it.

When the doors began to creak and strain, and raised voices from just outside announced their inevitable arrival, they stood together in a row, facing toward the door. Their weapons were drawn, their bodies steeled against pain and fear.

And when the army broke through, when the door fell and men began to flood the room, they fought.

With blade and bow and axe, they fought. With warrior cries and unflinching bravery, they fought. They cut down men before them as though they were fresh and strong again, and felt no blood spilled that was their own.

They fought until every last arrow and blade they had scavenged for was spent, and there was nothing left but for bare and bloodied fists, until those too failed. Until sheer numbers overwhelmed them, they fought, and though they had no hope of defeating the forces massed against them, they fulfilled their final goal.

Whenever stories were told of the day the Mad King’s reign was ended, it was always the strength of those final six that people spoke of. Of the Mad King and his Guard; of Mogar and his four companions, men with a loyalty unshakeable even in the face of certain death.


End file.
